


Coeur Froid

by Omnibee13



Series: Brothers In The Dark [2]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Fear of Death, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, Tags Are Hard, Titles are hard, Unrequited Crush, Vergil is trying okay?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:54:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27871865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omnibee13/pseuds/Omnibee13
Summary: What began as a simple eradication mission ends with Vergil poisoned by a demonic pest. If they can make it back to the shop in time, Dante has the antivenom. It all hinges on Vergil's heart-rate staying nice and calm.. Which is difficult to do when Vergil is still suffering under the weight of his unrequited, secret affections for Dante..
Relationships: Dante/Vergil (Devil May Cry)
Series: Brothers In The Dark [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2038610
Comments: 23
Kudos: 115
Collections: Spardacest Server Fics and Art





	1. Venin

**Author's Note:**

> This is multiple chapters because, otherwise, you guys would have to slog through a massive one-shot of 8k plus words. I am a benevolent creature, the patron saint of eye strain. 
> 
> Please excuse Nero being a potentially out of character little assclown, as I cannot for the life of me write him with any sort of goddamn accuracy.

There was something satisfying about the feeling of the feather-light resistance that Yamato met whenever she slashed something. With his sword in his hand, Vergil felt whole, or as whole as he could feel, all things considered. She was sharp enough to cut through the fabric of space and time, to break things down to its natural components, and, perhaps most importantly, it had a fun knack of making demons violently explode.

Juvenile? Oh yes. Brutally efficient? Absolutely. 

This seemed like an exceedingly simple job, but since it was a swam situation, Dante had invited Nero and Vergil along. With the Gargalarion incident still fresh in his mind, Vergil almost turned down the offer. Then Dante gave him that look – the one that was all blue eyes and deep honesty – and Vergil begrudgingly gave in, though with strict caveats that not a word be said about the incident, and if there was so much as a single quip from Dante, “the boy,” or the ever-so-charming chainsmoker that was their ride, he’d end the entire affair. Dante, surprisingly, agreed to those terms and the minute Nero made like he was going to say something smart-ass, Dante slugged him in the arm without so much as looking up from his magazine. 

Outside of that, the ride to the swarm site was pleasant. 

Unlike with the previous mission, humans actually had a good reason to fear these demons. Hoarfrosts were juvenile Frosts; smaller, than their adult counterparts, more larval in appearance, with six sets of fast-beating wings, two front legs tipped with the beginnings of the deadly blades they’d develop in adulthood, and a sickly pale body that ended in a writhing, thick tail, tipped with a frightfully sharp barb. They were about the size of small dogs, a toy breed or maybe a little bigger, making them frightening when they took flight. 

Dante had very limited intel on how the swam got through a Hell Gate, but that was secondary to the fact that they were in a human, residential area. Hoarfrosts were deadly to humans, the venom stored in their barbed tail-tips inducing rapid and violet hypothermia. In demons, it was a painful nuisance, so until they grew to their adult sizes, they were mostly just avoided.

Vergil wasn’t really thinking about that, as Yamato slashed through a line of three that had came at him from the left. Focus was key, patience and motivation and ambition, they all required focus, precision, concentr---

Nero whooped, exuberant as he brought his sword, Red Queen, down in an over-head slam, destroying more than five to six of the hellions. Vergil frowned. _Teenagers…_

“That puts me at twenty!” He called out to Dante, who was sniping larger ones out of the sky with his guns, looking for the queen or, God forbid, king Hoarfrost. Once that nasty bastard was squashed, the swam would collapse and die in a matter of minutes. 

“Aw, junior,” Dante called, clearly amused. “Lookit you!” Nero made a face at him, one that Vergil caught, in the middle of rolling his eyes. 

“This isn’t exactly a game,” he attempted, scanning the area and the air around them for more Hoarfrosts. It was always an awkward activity, trying to interact with Nero. Dante was encouraging in the relationship, and would often hold his angry comment (“My son means nothing to me”) against him, in private, and said that he could never say as much to Nero. Vergil’s time as V had softened a lot of his edges, and he had memories of that facet of himself and Nero’s interactions. V was very fond of Nero, and it seemed like Nero had been too.. But that was V, and Vergil wasn’t. If anything, sometimes Vergil thought that Nero could forgive his absence in his life if it didn’t involve his return taking a new friend from him. Nero’s look of abject disinterest and barely masked disdain, at least, made Vergil feel like the father of a teenager, in spirit if not in practice.

“Uh huh,” Nero said, with a shrug. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Vergil frowned, but didn’t pursue it. One thing he had always grasped was picking one’s battles. Currently, the battle against the Hoarfrost swam was more pressing than the battle to forge a father/son relationship with Nero that functioned. Looking around, Vergil took quick account of the swarm. The braver, stronger Hoarfrosts had already been killed by their blades and bullets, and lay in gorey carcasses scattered here and there at their feet. Hoarfrost blood was almost a bubble-gum blue and stunk of decay. Because most, if not all, of the stronger soldier types were dead, all that left was the dominant queen or king, and the drones. Vergil surmised those were the sickly ones that were buzzing about, hovering just beyond sword-swinging distance. Which, of course, meant that the dominant queen or king was someplace close and was getting weaker by the minute.

Nero likely sensed that too, which was why he slung the Red Queen over his shoulder, one hand on his hip, like the conquering hero. Vergil raised an eyebrow at him. He remembered himself and Dante at his age, perhaps a little younger, actually, and they thought of themselves as gods among boys. Nero had done even greater things by the time Dante would have slain Mundus.. He certainly came by his cockiness honestly. That concerned Vergil. When he was 19, Vergil had run headlong at Mundus, in Hell, after a marathon battle within the Temen-ni-Gru, exhausted, and truly thought he’d come out on top. Nero was strong, perhaps as strong or a little stronger, than Vergil was at 19.. That worried Vergil, about what Nero may or may not do with his reckless nature. 

“See that you do,” he said, attempting to make small talk and appear authoritative. He could work off his memories of his father, he was sure.. Though a father looked different in the eyes of an eight year old versus the eyes of a twenty-something. “Ambition and pride are wonderful things, but they are paving stones to hell once they become aggression and arrogance.”

Nero scoffed, looking away from him.

“You’d know,” he muttered. Vergil scowled. 

_This little shit,_ he thought. Somewhere, he was sure, Sparda was pleased he hadn’t had to deal with teenage Vergil’s smart mouth. 

Vergil turned to face Nero a little more square, so he was in front of his son and his son was in front of him. He had opened his mouth to speak, all ready to deliver his very first Fatherly lecture. Was it a poor venue for one? In hindsight, yes, because something caught Vergil’s eye behind Nero, coming at them fast. Nero’s bored gaze was on him, and not watching his back, so Vergil saw it well before Nero was even aware. 

“Nero!” He yelled, the name leaving his mouth before he realized it, grabbing the boy’s shoulder with his non-sword hand and throwing him roughly out of the way as a Hoarfrost came at the space where he had been mere miliseconds before. Nero lost his balance and nearly fell, but when he swung around, he saw demon bug catch Vergil in the side of his neck, the elder man making a sharp choking, hacking noise as he did. 

The angle was awkward and Vergil couldn’t use Yamato effectively. Even during the attack, though, he didn’t drop the katana. Vergil was cursing up a storm, grabbing at the body of the Hoarfrost with his free hand, the demon’s two spikes deep into the back of his shoulder, its mouth savaging at his neck, and the barb, stabbing in and out shallowly. He probably was stung five times in total from beginning to end of the attack, ripping the demon from his neck and flinging it to the ground. 

Adrenaline and rage guided his hand, as Vergil effortlessly settled into his stance, Yamato’s blade held at eye-height, a deadly lance, that he rammed into the Hoarfoast as it struggled to right itself, flung through the air. It shrieked and expanded around Yamato’s clean, perfect edge, and exploded. 

It hadn’t finished raining to the ground, before Vergil had his free hand to the side of his neck, and Dante was running towards them, yelling his name. 

“God _FUCKING_ dammit!” Vergil yelled, hissing as he took his hand away to look at it. His hand and glove was slick with blood, and his neck wound burned. 

“Easy!” Dante said, coming up to him. 

“I’ve been bit,” he snarled, stating the obvious, more incensed from the pain and the stupid way it happened than he was biting out at Dante. Dante held his wrist, looked at the wound. Even he winced. 

“Yeah,” he said, grimacing. “That fucker got you good..” 

Nero found himself standing, looking like a third wheel, as Dante held Vergil’s head to one side, while the other continued to snarl curses and wince. He noticed the remaining Hoarfrosts were dropping out of the air, quivering on the ground and whirring as if dying. 

“Is there holy water in the van?” Vergil asked, starting to calm down. Now it was just a matter of the inconvenience than anything. They could heal, he and his twin, with extraordinary efficiency. “Wash it out, and all that..”

Dante was making a face, his lips pursed and his eyebrows knitted together that worried the older man. Under normal circumstances, Vergil would have had to have tried very hard to keep the butterflies in his stomach from making him say something stupid, with Dante so near to him. Instead, he felt dread because Dante looked serious and concerned. Dante the whooping pizza addict who did – he was ashamed to admit – hilarious Kermit the Frog impressions and could laugh for hours at an inside joke, Vergil could handle. Serious Dante? Concerned Dante? The shit had hit the fan, if it was enough to break Dante from the man who rode the tail of a fire demon on Fortuna to mock it and the Dante that banished Argosax without cracking a smile once.

“Okay,” he said, slowly. Vergil’s stomach dropped to his shoes, because he started to grasp what Dante had already ascertained. He flashed Vergil a smile he probably hoped looked confident and reassuring. “Here’s what we’re going to do..”

 _Fuck,_ Vergil thought, realizing the deeper extent of what was going on.

“Dante?” Nero asked, also coming to grasp with what was happening.

“Nero, go get Nico, have her bring the van around,” Dante said, calmer than his body-language would lead one to believe. Nero hesitated. Dante glanced at him, harsher when he said, “Now, kid, run!”

Then he was right back at Vergil and Vergil was looking right back at him. His wound was still bleeding, but not as badly. Now it throbbed and burned and twinged. Vergil flexed and unflexed his free hand, taking a deep breath and exhaling it through pursed lips. He tried to bow his head, but Dante had a hand on the side of his face, keeping his eyes on him. 

_Why did this have to happen this way?_ Vergil whined in his mind. Dante finally right there, close to his face, hand on his cheek, and he was slowly succumbing to the effects of the Hoarfrost venom. 

“Hey,” Dante said, soft and breathy. “Look at me. Alright? It’s fine. It ain’t even that bad.”

“I’m starting to go numb in my fingertips,” Vergil said, with a surprising frank tone. He had panic and excitement in his gut, but it hadn’t yet cracked his icy veneer. Dante licked his lips and nodded. Vergil forced his body to move, taking a step back from his twin to slide Yamato into her shealth. “It was the king Hoarfrost, hm?” 

Easy, calm, conversational even. Vergil was trying to force his body to behave in that way, in the façade he wanted to portray, because he knew, the harder his heart beat, the faster the venom coursed through his system. Dante was clearly trying to be a comfort to him, and that certainly did nothing to keep Vergil’s heart from hammering in his chest. They’d just exterminated a swarm of demon bugs, but Dante smelled _GREAT._ Why the FUCK did he smell good?

“It was,” Dante said, also trying to be calm, but doing a better job of it. “But it’s no big deal,” he lied. “Not for us, right? You’ll be fine, I know exactly what to do..”

“Of course,” Vergil said, with a shrug that he hoped conveyed how little he didn’t care, as utter terror started to tickle at his spine, his fingers now nearly totally numb. Hoarfrosts killed by causing their victims to fall into a hypothermic coma, leaving them an easy meal to consume at their pleasure. But Vergil was a Cambion, his father a powerful demon. It wouldn’t kill him, he told himself. It wouldn’t kill him nearly as fast. 

“We’re going to get you into the van,” Dante said, still trying to sound calm and comforting. “Pour some holy water on that bitch, you’re gonna relax, be easy, breezy beautiful Cover-Verg, and once we get back to the shop, I got the antivenom that’ll clear you right up.”

Vergil closed his eyes, hoping Dante took it for annoyance at his attempt at jokes and NOT in shy excitement at being called beautiful. 

_I’m going to die,_ Vergil thought, almost laughing at the absurdity, _because of headrushes stemming from sheer joy at Dante paying attention to me, while being slowly poisoned. Put that on my headstone…_


	2. Peur Pacifique

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to die, Vergil thought. I'm going to die, and he'll never know ..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Hoarfrost Venom is spreading through Vergil's body, and, as the symptoms take stronger and stronger hold, Vergil realizes that he's going to die without ever telling Dante ...

Nico’s van came screaming up, and Nero was already throwing open the side sliding door. 

“What are the symptoms?” Vergil asked, trying to remain calm and conversational, as he walked for the van. The sudden movement made him weak in the knees and he found Dante at his elbow, grunting as he made to grab for him. 

“You’re going into hypothermic shock,” Dante explained, matter-of-fact. Vergil’s body language said that wasn’t a problem, even as the gravity was steady settling in. 

“I’m fine,” Vergil lied, with a shrug, climbing into the van. Dante was right behind him. He had his hand near Vergil’s back; not exactly on him. It was sometimes just a guiding nudge. Dante knew Vergil wasn’t a touchy-feely guy, or even open to being touched at all. He liked being babied even less, though in this case, Vergil wasn’t going to kick up a fuss, least of all because his heart’s beating was circulating the venom through him. 

Dante gestured to the couch, and Vergil settled into it. He was still balling up fists and relaxing his hands in time with his breathing. If he could chase off the tingly feelings in his fingers, maybe that’d help his nerves a little?

“Yup!” Dante said, moving to the front of the van. “Nico, how far is it to the shop?” Nico was already taking off, headed for the highway with her usual respect and love for traffic laws. Vergil gave her a withering look as she pulled a cigarette out of a soft-pack with her teeth. 

“’Bout thirdy minutes, fordy with traffic, why?” Nico replied, in her charming Southern twang. Well, Vergil assumed she was charming to someone.. 

“Great!” Dante said, smiling broadly and clapping her on the back. “We got fifteen.” Nero looked from where Dante and Nico was to Vergil and back again. Vergil took some sick pleasure at how guilty he looked. _Oh, sweetheart, you wear your heart on your sleeve so well,_ he thought. 

“It’s not that bad is it?” Nero asked, while Dante moved back to the back of the van. Vergil was holding his neck wound again. It was tingling in the way that Cambion wounds did when they began to knit back together. Nico, grimly, lit her cigarette, and wordlessly floored it, weaving in and out of traffic as she worked to shave their transit time in half. 

Vergil noticed the slight tremor in his chest. When was the last time he shivered, at all? He didn’t. He couldn’t remember an illness, and he tried not to remember the “illnesses” he suffered at Mundus’ hands. He was still at the first stages of hypothermia, so that was a good sign, even if it was a sunny, autumn day out. 

If Dante noticed his shivers, he didn’t say anything. He was too busy kicking the mini fridge beside the couch, the door popping open and Dante pulling a plastic water bottle from within. He twisted the cap off with ease and, not gently, tilted Vergil’s head up and to the side, exposing the neck wound to him. 

“It’s nothing,” he lied, flippant, as he poured the entire contents of the water bottle on it. Vergil grit his teeth, the wound hissing and turning hot. It itched like the peroxide their mother would dag on scraped knees. Holy water. The old stand-by, every demon slayer’s Swiss Army Knife. “Just your run of the mill demonic poisoning. So long as we all stay calm and not move around or get excited or anything, we’ll all have a beer later and just laugh and laugh..” 

“So he’s not gonna die,” Nero said, hiding the relief in his voice. Vergil, ignoring the water that soaked his front, and letting Dante press a hopefully clean rag to the still itching wound, letting Vergil take over applying pressure to it, to run up front to the van again, starting to fiddle with the radio. “Right?”

“Sorry to disappoint,” Vergil said, smoother and calmer than he felt and probably appeared. He was a mess. His hair was falling into his face, ruffled from the initial attack, his coat had a mix of blood and water soaking through, and the shivers were starting to become harder and harder to still. He focused on his breathing, on keeping the tremors from starting and not stopping. Nero looked guilty, and Vergil shamelessly relished it. 

“You disappoint a lot,” he attempted to mutter, petulant. Vergil rolled his eyes, leveling a glare at Nero.

“My deepest apologies, little one,” he said, acerbic. He still got it, though Dante’s bark back at them silenced any more barbs for the time being.

“Knock it the fuck off,” he snapped, going back to the radio. He had dialed in the shop’s frequency and was attempting to hail someone, anyone, there. “Mobile to base, please someone answer this fuckin waste of money..”

A moment of static, and then the click of someone picking up.

“Dante,” Lady’s voice came, fuzzy and tinny over the radio. “How as the bug thing?”

“Not great, babe,” Dante said, taking a breath. “Okay, I need you to do exactly what I say, and don’t waste time questioning it.”

“What’s wrong?”

“What the hell did I just say?”

“Okay, go for it.”

“Fill up the bathtub with as much hot water as you can. I mean turn that fucker up as far as it goes. Scaling-scalding. We’ll be there in – “ He looked at Nico, expectant. 

“If this fucker moves out the gottdamn way, twen'y minutes,” she replied, laying on the horn as she cut someone off to pass someone else. Vergil was impressed, the finger was second nature to this woman. Dante whistled and looked at her.

“Twenty?” He asked, incredulous. “You can’t go any faster?”

“Ooh, Shug, I’ll try,” she said, shaking her head and passing on the shoulder. 

“Twenty minutes,” Dante said to Lady on the radio. “After you do that, get into the locked cabinet behind my desk. Find the bottle labeled “Frost AV,” and just be ready with it, okay, don’t let it out of your sight.”

“Dante, what’s going on?” Lady asked, concerned. 

“No time to explain, just do it,” he said, before slamming the mouthpiece back down. He hurried back to where Vergil said. “Update?”

Vergil’s eyes were closed, leaning back against the seat, swallowing hard. He was pale, and he knew it. He felt clammy and achy. It was coming on faster than he expected, considering his Cambion biology.

“Fine,” he croaked. Vergil winced, checking the towel at his neck for blood. It was pink, the bleeding almost stopped, the wound knitting itself back together. Around the same time as Dante was admonishing Lady for not listening to him, the shakes started and Vergil couldn’t stop them. He was trying to keep focused and calm, though the fact all he could think about was the symptoms of hypothermia he had memorized, that wasn’t exactly soothing. 

“Just hang in there,” Dante said, gritting his teeth, before he started moving around the van, throwing open cabinets, opening drawers. “Nic’ we don’t have ANY fuckin blankets?!”

“I can drive, or I can look fer blankies, Shug, fuckin pick!” Nico barked back at him. 

_Slow, weak pulse,_ Vergil thought, absently going to check his wrist, the rag forgotten on his shoulder. He couldn’t concentrate hard enough to count and keep track. 

_Irritability,_ Vergil thought. _Well, that’s a given._ Though he was less irritated at Nero staring at him as he had some pity. No one should have to watch their father suffer.

 _No one should have to watch their mother burn either.._

Vergil blinked to clear his head. 

_Wooo, let’s not right now, yeah?_

Vergil wasn’t sure why he was pulling his coat off, clumsily tugging at his sleeves to pull it off. 

“Don’t,” Dante said, sharply. “Vergil, stop fuckin movin around.” 

“Can’ get warm.”

Was that him? He sounded drunk to his own ears. Vergil pulled his coat over himself, like a blanket and tried to still himself, leaning back in his seat, head back too, eyes closed. 

_Confusion, lack of coordination. Not great, not great at all._

“Nico, floor it!” Nero was barking, met with a flurry of violent curses from Nico. 

“Motherfucker, I’M TRYIN!”

“Vergil, look at me.”

Someone had his face in one hand and he opened bleary eyes to look at someone, unfocused, but very much beside him. 

“Stay awake,” someone ordered. “You hear me? Use some of that focus, and concentrate on me, alright?” Vergil frowned, wrinkling his nose and trying to lift one hand to bat whoever it was away. “No. Nope, do as I damn well say. Okay? Listen to me.”

Vergil squeezed his eyes shut, grit his teeth and forced himself to focus on whoever it was in front of him. Dante. Of course. Nero had gone to the front, was bickering with Nicoletta. 

_That’s a pretty name.._

_Focus_.

“Alright, we’re back,” Dante said, more to himself than Vergil. Vergil’s head lolled for a moment, feeling and seeming as if he was deep in his cups. Dante had both hands on his face, keeping him looking at him. “Right here, okay? You’re gonna do what I say for a change, huh? Everything is fine, you’re going to be okay, alright?”

“Sure,” Vergil said, surprised by how slurred even that word was. Dante snorted. 

“That’s right, asshole, you’re too stubborn to die, right?” He said, grinning. Vergil exhaled, hard, and shut his eyes. “Talk to me, tell me what’s going on?”

“Wur fif’een owt!” Nico hollered, her accent thick as ever, as she took the on-ramp going 80, sending Nero into the passenger’s seat. 

“You’re fine,” Dante said, following up with making a “pssh!” noise. “See? Fifteen minutes, we’re gonna be laughing about this, huh?”

“I don’t laugh,” Vergil mumbled, weakly. He tried to pull away from Dante, his face too close, his hands too warm but just right, and the grip Vergil had on his feelings so tenuously thin, he thought they’d burst. Dante rubbed his knuckles, roughly, on Vergil’s sternum, making him stiffen and grit his teeth. “Dante?! You ass!”

“Works every time,” Dante said, shaking his head. “Stay awake, stay with me. You pass out, we might not get you back.”

“Good.”

_Did he say that out-loud?_

“Oh, blow it out your ass, Verg,” Dante said, exasperated. “You’re not dying today, not on my watch, not again. Okay? You just focus on me. Cuss me out if you want to, go off, alright? Call me everything but decent, just stay awake, and stay focused on me.”

Somewhere in Vergil’s mind that was still cogent, he had this little thought. Was it fear? Was he truly succumbing to the Hoarfrost venom? Something about it struck him as cruel, but also .. funny? Funny in a sad way. In an ironic way. In the same nervous laughter that accompanied watching someone get hit by a car, someone have a heart attack the day they meant to retire, that malicious irony that the universe absolutely thrived on. That bitter, mean-spirited humor that whatever god that dictated Vergil’s life dealt in. 

_I’m going to die. I’m going to die and he’ll have no idea._

He had once, while laying awake one night, thought of how he’d tell Dante. Bold versions of the fantasy included him just coming out, taking Dante by the chin, telling him how his memory kept a part of him alive when Mundus was torturing him, how much he missed him, that he loved him, that he wanted him. More demure versions, he imagined Dante taking the lead, and finally broaching the subject with him. All those rehearsed scenarios, all those idle thoughts, and all Vergil could think to do, in his fogged, half-conscious mind, was to do the least rehearsed but easiest thing he could do in that moment. 

Vergil closed the distance between them, rushed and clumsy, a teenager all over again. The courtesan on Fortuna taught him how to kiss, and for free, because he was already paying her for other services. Not that any of that mattered now, because all he did was try to put his lips to Dante’s. 

_If I’m going to die, I’m not going to die some desperate, unkissed idiot._

He missed. Vergil was off, kissing more of Dante’s lower lip and chin than his mouth, but it was enough, and when Dante’s hands flew to his shoulders, tried to sit him up straight, he was content.. 

“Vergil?” Dante shouted, sounding concerned, but very, very far away. 

_Haaa… You did it. You idiot, you bashful goddamn girl, you did it.._

“Hey?” Dante said again, while Vergil’s head lolled on his shoulders. Dante’s hands were hard around his upper arms, keeping him seated when his body wanted to slump. “Vergil, you gotta stay awake, you – ”

He sounded very far away, and a strange buzzing was all Vergil could hear, increasing in volume, as a darkness started to cloud his vision, eyes half-lidded and unfocused. His lips were still parted.. Jesus, he had never felt more relaxed in his life. He couldn’t feel a damn thing now.. 

This had to have been the nicest way he’d ever died ..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank the 10 Kudos keeping me alive as I finish this fic..


	3. Chaleur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Lady watched Dante clamor out of the van and for a minute, she thought he had Nero in his arms. One arm was around his legs, hoked under his knees, and the other were around his shoulders, but the body in his arms was totally limp. "

It took Nico eleven minutes from her last hollered update to come to a screeching halt outside of the shop. Lady was already at the door, looking concerned and anxious. Things moved very fast from what Nico could see, and she had to admit, she was a little frightened too. Something was happening. Something had gone wrong on the hunt. There was a lot of shouting, before the van came to the full stop. She hoped those four minutes she shaved off mattered, because Dante was already going. 

Nero had thrown open the sliding side door to the van, Dante’s arms full. He was a strong guy, thicker built than his twin. It was either brute strength or sheer adrenaline that leant itself to Dante in those precious few seconds. 

Lady watched Dante clamor out of the van and for a minute, she thought he had Nero in his arms. One arm was around his legs, hoked under his knees, and the other were around his shoulders, but the body in his arms was totally limp. 

But it wasn’t Nero. Nero was sprinting into the house, apparently taking it on himself to open every door he could between Dante and the bathroom. Nico was right behind him, the van thrown into park violently and Lady right behind her. There was shouting, but not a lot of information passed among them. 

“Out of the way,” Dante yelled, authority in all of his being. When he spoke, people listened. Vergil wasn’t heavy, and he had a good grip on him, and he wasn’t going to die today, and he wasn’t going to die again, and he wasn’t going to die and leave Dante alone again, a twin who outlived a twin.. 

“What happened?!” Lady had said, shrill, at one point, thundering after Dante as he bounded up the steps. 

Vergil had lost consciousness mere minutes before Nico made it to the shop, but it felt like an eternity for Dante. Every second, every thready, half-there beat of his heart in his wrist, was a life time for Dante. He had him, though. He wasn’t at the bottom of a fuckin Hell pit, he wasn’t a corrupted shell of who he was, he had been poisoned, that’s all. 

Vergil was always a fair guy, Dante used to joke that people with shiney teeth gave him sunburn, but he was ashen now. And cold, cold to the touch. If they could shock him back to consciousness, raise his body temp artificially then they’d buy some time for him to swallow the antivenom and recover. But the longer Vergil lingered, the less time they had. 

Dante almost kicked open the bathroom door, but Lady had done what he had asked of her, and the tub was filled to the top with water that still steamed. 

Lady was paused at the door, both hands over her mouth when she saw Vergil’s face. It was blank, still, almost peaceful, but there was nothing behind those half-lidded eyes. He had Dante’s face, in a way, and seeing that face so very still was heartbreaking.

Everything happened so fast. 

With no ceremony, no pomp, no preamble, Dante dumped Vergil, fully clothed, sans coat, into the bathtub, water sloshing out of it, soaking him from the hips down. He didn’t care. In the split second that Vergil hit the water, slipped under it, his heart was too tight to hope.

His older brother gasped, hard, almost yelled out, one leg trying to find purchase on the edge of the tub, but slipping. His eyes were open, and clear, but they squeezed shut again as the pain hit. The shock of the hot water brought him back from the brink, but Dante knew, he was still in danger. 

“Lady,” he yelled, dropping to his knees hard beside the tub. He reached back at her, and she almost fumbled the vial. Dante pulled the cork out with his teeth, grabbing Vergil’s jaw in his other hand. Vergil was still fighting, unable to find firm purchase in the bathtub, water splashing out and onto the floor, and onto Dante. He didn’t care. He held Vergil’s head still as he tipped the vial to his lips. The whole thing down his throat, and though there was still fight in him, Dante was able to fall back onto his butt and both hands. 

.. Vergil was disorientated, his entire body racked with aches and pains, more from the shock and the spasms than anything, but as awareness started to take root in his mind, he looked, and he saw Dante. 

If Nico or Nero or Lady did or said anything, if they looked at him or not, he didn’t see. He didn’t notice. He didn’t care. He just saw Dante, out of breath, but looking relieved. Vergil, himself, slumped in the tub, the hot water bizarrely pleasant, and the antivenom tasting like vomit in his mouth. But he had it. He wasn’t going to die. 

He rolled his head, resting on the back edge of the tub to look at Dante. 

“ .. not going with you on these things anymore,” he croaked. Dante chuckled, letting his head fall back, and Vergil watched his chest move up and down as he took several deep.. deep breaths.. 

. . . 

No one really talked much to Vergil after that, in the hours that followed. He knew that Nico and Nero were still there, because he could hear them. But after he came back, after Dante’s plan worked, he just closed his eyes and stayed in the tub for a while. The others left the bathroom, and for a moment, so did Dante. What words were exchanged, Vergil didn’t know. Vergil didn’t care. He just focused on how boneless he felt in the scalding water, how the tremors eventually stilled in his muscles, and how thought came back to him, easy and smooth. He didn’t know how long the antivenom would take to completely flush the poison out, but he didn’t care. Everything was fuzzy, almost dream0-like. 

The water was yet tepid when he sat up. 

Jesus.. He was fully clothed. 

Vergil rubbed his face with one hand, beyond exhausted. Most of the water was on the floor, but if that mattered to Dante, he didn’t show it, when he came back in. 

No words were exchanged, really. Dante helped Vergil to his feet in the bathtub, helped him peel the soaking, heavy clothes off, and plopped them into a waiting laundry basket. Vergil may have made some quip about how much he hated it when his socks got wet, because Dante was chuckling about something as he helped keeping Vergil steady on his feet. Towels came next, Vergil still having enough dignity to insist he dry himself, and Dante let him. He was using a spare towel to try to mop up some of the water that had formed the fresh lake on the floor. 

It was all very dream-like.. If Vergil focused on his steady inhale, exhale, things progressed in a weird mix of fast and slow. He’d almost nod off, it seemed, and then he was nearly dressed, though not in his clothes. Another slow blink and he was in the hall, moving mostly supported by someone giving off far too much body heat to be human.. A third blink, and there was something sinful about the chill of the pillow against his face. Someone – Dante, not just anyone or someone, but Dante – moved his legs into bed, pulled the quilt over him. 

How long Vergil was fully unconscious, he didn’t know. This time it was in exhausted sleep, dreamless and deep, a far cry from the near death he slipped into in the van. The house was quiet, though, and the sky that he could see peeking through the curtains of the window beside the bed was a deep navy blue. 

And he wasn’t in his bed. Or his room. He didn’t know why Dante had trundled him off to his bedroom, but he was too exhausted to care. A stark difference from when he was young, brilliantly stupid, and thought he was too “powerful” to care..

Vergil laid there, awake, but far too comfortable to move, for some time, until the door opened and Dante walked in. Had he stayed in his wet clothes until they dried? With the only light coming in from the hall behind him, and even that getting cut off when Dante shut the door behind himself, it was hard to tell. 

.. He had died, though, Vergil decided, laying there watching Dante try his best to quietly change. Died and went straight to heaven. His expression betrayed nothing, however, and he shifted in bed, watching as Dante noticed he was awake. He gave an almost embarrassed smile, but relief was written all over his face as well and Vergil just relished it for now. He almost died, he deserved it, dammit.. 

“How you feelin?” He asked, hushed. 

“Oh, wonderful,” Vergil almost purred. “Somewhere between “hit by a bus” and “ran over by a train.”” Dante snorted at that one, pulling his shirt up over his head. 

“That’s my guy,” he said, grinning. _Say that again, but slower,_ Vergil thought, closing his eyes for just a second. “We were scared we lost you for a second. Almost screamed myself hoarse when you passed out in the van.”

Vergil tensed then. _After I kissed you,_ he thought. _Finish the thought, Dante, after I kissed you._

But Dante didn’t. He just shamelessly unzipped his pants and pulled them off his hips. Vergil groaned, covering his eyes. 

“I don’t need to see that,” he grumbled. Yes, he did. But he figured staring at his twin in his underwear would be less believable than him feigning disgust. He was a contrarian bitch in that way, he decided. He was grateful for the dark, though, because he could feel his cheeks flush at the idea of Dante being so concerned that he’d actually lose his “cool, jockish, rock star” persona to actually yell his name.. 

“It looks just like yours, ya virgin,” Dante teased. “And, yeah, I know what you’re thinking.”

 _You really do not, twin.._

“And yes, _WE_ were worried. Nero is a guilt ridden goddamn cupcake right now, and if you gloat about it, I’ll blister your butt myself,” Dante warned, frankly. 

_Promise?_

Vergil rubbed his face again, trying to sit up. He had to stop. He couldn’t think these things. He couldn’t be having these feelings, near death experience or not. Near death experience induced kiss or not, too. 

_Although,_ a soft voice in his mind breathed. Vergil recognized it as V’s. He didn’t know how he recognized it, or how that could even be, but he did and it was. _Maybe just for tonight.. Let yourself think what you want. It’s not like he’s in your head, Vergil.._

“Go back to sleep,” Dante said, gentler than Vergil thought at first. Vergil remained propped on his elbows though, defiant. 

“Nero is still downstairs?” He asked, merely curious. Dante nodded, climbing over Vergil, much to the latters chagrin and some discomfort, to flop on the bed on the other side of him. 

“The kid’s staying the night on the couch. He’s in his fee-fees about you taking the Hoarfrost for him, and Nico is calling him a pussy and Lady is staying to make us breakfast in the morning,” Dante grunted, pulling at the quilt so it covered him. 

When the sudden wave of heat from Dante’s body washed over him, Vergil shuddered. He swallowed and rolled over onto his side, facing away from his twin entirely. The Hoarfrost’s venom was definitely still in his system, because the heat rolling off of Dante felt so good.. Sleep never came exceptionally easy for him. Sometimes he’d have to chase it for hours, but right then and there, he felt so stupidly .. 

Vergil wrinkled his nose.

 _Oh, God,_ he thought. _Is this “cozy?”_

Rolling his eyes, he shifted, feeling Dante also toss. 

“In all seriousness,” Dante’s voice came quiet and sincere. “You okay?” 

Vergil sighed, his eyes fluttering closed as he thought that question over. The wound on his neck still ached. It was angry, red, puffy, but it was a closed wound that, perhaps by tomorrow, would be only the smooth skin of his neck again. How honest did he want to be, that was the question. Normally Vergil would be guarded and walled off to a fault and normally he was. But he was tired, just then. Tired, and he had come so close to letting his twin know exactly how he felt. While, yes, it was when he was near death, and influenced by said near death experience, it still was something that happened, it still was something that happened to him, to them. 

“No more worse for wear,” he muttered, finally. “Exhausted. Still cold.” 

Dante slipped an arm around his waist and exhaustion be damned, Vergil nearly leapt out of his skin. _No, no, no, no, noo._ Dante was not about to spoon him, not when he nearly died, not when he almost failed the Near Death Experience Kiss. 

Vergil, teeth grit, turned over, prepared to face Dante with the indignation that was rising in his chest. So this was what it was, then. His twin knew and meant to tease him, mock him, make him into a damn joke. 

Facing Dante, he was expecting to see a smirk or a sneer or some other sign of droll amusement. He’d seen that look before, when they were younger, when he was every inch a damnable little shit. 

But he didn’t see that. Dante lay there, eyes half closed, one arm folded under his head, less a smirk and more a lopsided, closed lip smile. Vergil was unarmed, then, blinking in the dark. Before he could do or say anything, his lips parted from the words that died in his throat. Dante closed the distance between them, and Vergil, frozen, could only lay there, as Dante kissed him, on the tip of his nose. 

“ .. Well, good night!” Dante said, pleasantly enough, before rolling over. 

Vergil, however, didn’t move. Not for a long time. He blinked a few times, swallowed hard and struggled to relax again, but he wasn’t sure if he moved a muscle until he heard Dante’s breathing even out and he was certain he was asleep. Was it shock, was it apprehension, was it joy?

Who cared?

Vergil eventually did manage to fall asleep again, that night, though he remembered waking up once, when the sky outside the shop was black as pitch, dotted with barely there stars. He remembered he was warm, warmer than he had ever remembered being, and he was held, and he was at peace..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omni, the Patron Saint of Eye Strain, blesses everyone who read this god awful mess from start to finish...

**Author's Note:**

> I AM SO RUSTY AND I NEED PROMPTS BADLY..  
> My tumblr is omniverbosity.tumblr.com, and I am ready, willing, and able to take any requests or prompts there, as well as any someone may want to leave in the comments. Comments are my life.


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